


All in the Family

by spikes_heart



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21688243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikes_heart/pseuds/spikes_heart
Summary: What if Buffy brought back a little surprise after her encounter with Angel in I Will Remember You?
Relationships: Buffy/Angel (temp), Buffy/Riley (attempted), Spike/Buffy Summers
Comments: 1
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Borrowed the opening scene entirely from the end of Angel’s first season episode I Will Remember You, written by David Greenwalt and Jeannine Renshaw.
> 
> A huge part of the first three chapters is borrowed from Something Blue, written by Tracey Forbes.
> 
> Everything you recognize is their respective writers’ property, and not mine.

Buffy eyed Angel’s dejected appearance as he walked down his apartment stairs. “I’m guessing that expression isn’t because they were all out of fresh OJ at the deli. What happened?

Angel sighed, not willing to look her in the face. “Nothing happened. I just…”

“Where have you been?”

She could feel his reluctance to respond as he answered, “I went to see the Oracles. I asked them to turn me back.”

“What? Why?”

“Because, more than, ever I know how much I love you.”

“No. No – you didn’t!” Reeling with disbelief, she backed away from the human Angel.

Angel took a few steps towards her. “And if I stayed mortal, once of us would wind up dead. Maybe both of us. You heard what Mohra said.”

“Mohra is dead. We killed him.”

“He said others would come,” Angel insisted.

“They always come. And they always will. But that’s my problem now, not yours – remember?”

Angel refused to listen to her. “No. I won’t just stand by and let you fight, maybe die, alone.”

“Then we fight, together.”

“You saw what happened last night,” Angel belabored. “If anything, I’m a liability to you. You take chances to protect me and, that’s not just bad for you, it’s bad for the people we were meant to help.”

Buffy was incredulous. “So, what? You just took a whole twenty-four hours to weigh the ups and downs of being a regular Joe and decided it was more fun being a superhero?”

“You know that’s not it. How can we be together if the cost is your life, or the lives of others?” Angel reached out, pulling her gently against his body. “I know. I couldn’t tell you. I wasn’t sure… if I could do it if I woke up with you one more morning.”

Buffy huddled closer into his arms. “I understand,” she sniffled. “So, what happens now?”

“The Oracles are giving us back the day; turning back time so I can kill Mohra before his blood makes me mortal.”

“When?”

He turned to look at the clock. “Another minute.”

Unable to stem her tears, Buffy cried out, “A minute? No. No! How am I supposed to go on with my life knowing what we had? What we could have had?”

“You won’t,” Angel whispered softly into her hair. “No one will know but me.”

“Everything we did…”

“It never happened.”

“It did. It did!” Buffy insisted. “I know it did.” She tenderly placed her right hand on his heart – his still beating, mortal heart. “I felt your heart beat.”

“Buffy…”

She shut him up with a desperate kiss, peering over his shoulder at the clock. Their minute was almost up. “No! Oh god, it’s not enough time.”

Angel’s tears mingled with hers. “Shh, please. Please.” They clutched more tightly. “Please, please…” he repeated.

“No. I’ll never forget. I’ll never forget. I’ll never forget. I’ll never forget.”

She never saw the white flash that enveloped the office.

Buffy stood next to the glass door leading to Angel’s office. “So, let’s just stick to the plan. Keep our distance until a lot of time has passed and, given enough time… we should be able to…”

“Forget,” Angel said gruffly.

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed. So – I’m gonna go – start forgetting.”

The shatter of broken glass drew her attention to the window as a big demon with a gem in the middle of its forehead crashed through, screaming loudly.

She watched, as Angel turned, grabbed the clock from his desk and coolly proceeded to smash the demon’s jewel with it. The demon vanished in a flash of light.

“That was unreal,” she said, stunned by the efficiency of the kill. “How did you know how to kill it?”

“It’s a Mohra demon. I – I had a lot of time to catch up on my reading,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Yeah – okay,” she said, slowly nodding her head. “So, I guess we’ve covered it, right?”

“I guess we did.”

“And that’s all there really is to say,” Buffy said, awkwardly toeing the ground. She turned and headed out the door.

*****

The weather was beautiful, the blanket was soft, and Riley had packed a picnic lunch full of things she enjoyed, like fresh apples, crackers and a multitude of cheeses. She should be happy, content with a fella who seemed interested in her. (One with a pulse and no aversion to sunshine.)

So why didn’t she feel right?

She couldn’t put her finger on it. She felt… off. But a little bit of light-headedness and some general stomach uneasiness – they could be explained away by hunger, right? She really hadn’t had much of anything to eat yet today. Buffy picked up a cracker, added a thick slice of Havarti cheese with caraway seeds and popped it into her mouth.

Nope. Not a good idea. She picked up a napkin and delicately spat the food into it.

“What’s the matter?” Riley asked, concern lining his face. “Willow told me you liked cheese.”

“I do – usually,” she said, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. “Maybe just a plain cracker would be better.” Buffy crunched her way through a couple and, sure enough, her discomfort seemed to ease.

She took a small bite of apple and swallowed. Another bad idea; there would be no second bite. Back to the crackers, then.

“Jeeze, Buffy… you’re looking a little green around the gills. If you’re not feeling well, you don’t have to stick this out on my account,” Riley said sympathetically. “We can always do this when you’re not queasy.”

Buffy nodded slowly. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I was feeling fine and then suddenly food was not my friend.”

She looked up and spotted a sulky looking Willow heading their way.

Willow ground to a slow halt in front of them. “I interrupted,” her best friend said dejectedly. “You’ve got apples – my bad.”

“You’re really pale, Buffy.” Riley was still trying to help. “Let me walk you back to the dorm, at least.”

“Did something happen?” Buffy asked Willow, ignoring Riley for the moment.

“No… everything’s fine. Same.”

“Oh.”

“Your apples are turning brown, the way they do.”

Riley laughed. “Yeah, I guess they do that.”

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed, her queasiness coming back.

“We were just leaving, Willow,” Riley said, standing up and repacking the basket. “Buffy’s not feeling well.”

“Oh. Oh! C’mon, then,” she said, turning to Buffy. “We can walk back to the dorm together.”

Riley’s face fell a bit. “Well, I guess if you girls have it covered, you don’t need me tagging along.”

“I’ll call you later, Riley,” Buffy promised, waving a small goodbye.

*****

Buffy didn’t know why she’d let Willow talk her into coming to the Bronze. It must have been her ‘poor me’ attitude and sad face. It was hard to leave a friend in need – especially, Buffy mused, for her.

The Bronze was uber-loud tonight; crowded (and reeking of beer and sweaty people) which didn’t help her mood. The queasy feeling she’d had earlier had returned in full-force but bound by the girlfriend code, she vowed to stay and do her best to distract Willow from her woes.

“Jeeze, you mean Oz just sent for his stuff and didn’t even call her?” Xander asked as they all huddled around their small table. “That’s pretty harsh.”

“I only wish I had my powers back,” Anya replied, with a look that pinged Buffy’s demon radar. “I’d liquify his entrails for her.”

“That’s sweet.” Xander nodded, obviously upset on behalf of his oldest friend. “God, poor Will. No wonder she’s…”

Whatever he’d been about to say was abandoned when Willow appeared in the middle of the throng, dancing her little heart out.

“…having a wonderful time.” He stared agog as she bopped and wove amongst the others.

“Wow. Way to rebound,” was all Buffy could say, totally surprised by Willow’s change in demeanor.

“I believe that’s the dance of a brave little toaster,” was Xander’s rejoinder.

Willow finally spotted them and made her way to the table. “Hey, guys. C’mon! This music’s great!” she enthused, still dancing in place.

“It’s nice to see you brought your boogie shoes tonight, Will.”

“Yeah… I-I know I’ve been sort of a party-poop lately, so I said to myself, ‘Self,’ I said, ‘it’s time to shake and shimmy it off.’”

“Sounds like a good policy,” Buffy agreed.

“Yeah! And it works, too. You know, I just figure, in the grand scheme of things, we’re all just –” Willow grabbed at her falling jacket as a bottle of beer fell, its contents foaming out on the ground.

“Drunk?” Buffy supplied in shock. Willow with a beer was not what she expected.

With an awkward little laugh, Willow bent to pick up the bottle. “Drunk… I mean, that’s such a-a strong word. Kind of a guttural Anglo-Saxon word. Drunk!”

Xander grimaced. “Will, not loving the drowning of the sorrows.”

“Not drowning,” Willow insisted. “Wading. A-a-and… see?” she said, pointing to the bottle. “Light! No big.”

“No big?” Buffy scoffed. “Anyone remember when Buffy had the fun beer-fest and went one-million years B.C.?”

“Sadly, without the fuzzy bikini,” Xander sighed, obviously drifting off into just such a fantasy.

“Off topic, Xander,” Anya admonished.

Xander took the hint. “Right. Topic now.” He walked over to his friend. “Will, how about you give me that beer?”

“No! Why should I? I’ve got pain, here – big-time legitimate pain.”

“We all have pain, Will,” Xander soothed.

But that just seemed to ramp Willow up. “Oh, like what? ‘Oh, poor little me, I live in a basement.’ Yeah, that’s dire,” she snorted derisively.

Obviously offended, Xander shook his head and walked back to their table.

Buffy stood up and took Willow by the arm. “Okay, you know what? That’s it. I’m taking you home.” Will clearly needed an escort to their dorm. Plus – bonus, Buffy realized – it would get her out of here, as well.

Willow pulled her arm out of Buffy’s grasp. “No. I don’t want to,” she insisted.

“Well, you’ll thank me when you still have a friend in the morning.”

“I just can’t stand feeling this way. I want it to be over.”

Buffy could empathize. They’d all been there at one point or another. “It will. I promise,” she declared. “But it’s gonna take time.”

“Well, that’s not good enough.”

“I know. It’s just how it is. You have to go through the pain.”

“Well, isn’t there some way I can just make it go away? Just ’cause I say so? Can’t I just make it go ‘poof’?”

Speechless, Buffy just stared at her. My god, would this night ever end?

*****

Wide awake, Willow glanced at the clock. This just couldn’t go on. Her pain needed to end. And not later – now!

Glancing over to make sure Buffy was still sleeping the sleep of the unconscious, Willow crept quietly out of bed and opened the trunk where she kept her spell components. She hauled the necessaries into the bathroom and set things up on the floor: a circle of red candles, an incense censer, a goblet and three trays containing herbs.

Stepping into the middle of the circle, she sat and placed a bowl in front of her. “Harken all ye elements, I summon thee now,” she began to chant as she dropped ingredients into the bowl between the circle of her legs. “Control the outside, control within. Land and sea, fire and wind. Out of my passions, a web be spun. From this eve forth, my will be done. So mote it be.” Pouring the goblet’s contents into the bowl, a flicker of electricity connected her to the candles and all of the flames rose high – signifying the spell’s success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first three chapters were originally posted to Seasonal Spuffy.
> 
> This is also a challenge fic for Elysian Fields - the requirements will be posted at the end of the fic.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking the next morning, Willow looked around. Buffy was already gone. She picked up her mirror, concentrated and said, “It is my will that my heart be healed. Now.”

Nothing.

With a sigh, she put the mirror back down and picked up her spellbook.

“I will that this book speak its words to me.”

Still nothing. Down went the book.

Picking up a bent Q-tip, she tried again. “I will that this Q-tip gets… unbendy?”

A knock at the door interrupted her fruitless attempts.

“Come in,” she called, not bothering to get up as Giles entered. “Giles, what are you doing here?”

“I’m… a bit concerned about you, actually,” he said, worry lines framing his eyes.

“Did Buffy tell you about the beer?” Willow asked, guiltily. “’Cause…”

“Uh… Buffy didn’t tell me anything.”

“Oh, well… forget the beer part, then,” she said with a blush.

“Happily. I came because we had an appointment the other day…”

“Oh, right… right… the truth spell.”

“Yes, um… Willow. I know that you’re going through a very difficult time, but shirking your responsibilities –”

“But… I didn’t – shirk. I… did the research, and I picked up the motherwort. I just forgot the doing-the-spell part.”

“That isn’t like you at all,” Giles said, disappointment written all over his face.

“I know. I-I’ve been off. I-I even tried to do a spell last night. To have my will done. I was hoping it would make me feel better. But it just went kablooey.”

“A spell?” Giles was definitely not happy. “I don’t think it’s wise for you to be doing that alone right now. Your energy’s too unfocused.”

“Well, that’s not true,” Willow said, insulted. “I said I was off – not incompetent.”

“I only meant that you’re grieving, and it might be wise if you took a break from doing spells without supervision.

Incensed, Willow retorted angrily, “So, I get punished ’cause I’m in pain?”

“It’s not punishment,” Giles countered. “I’m only saying this because I –” 

“Oh, you care,” Willow said, snidely. “Yeah, everybody cares. Nobody wants to be inconvenienced. You all want me to take the time and go through the pain, as long as you don’t have to hear about it anymore.”

“No, that’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? ’Cause I’m doing the best I can and it doesn’t seem to be enough for you guys.”

“And I see how you could feel that way. I do –”

Willow stamped her foot, aware that her tantrum was childish. “No, you don’t,” she spat. “You say that you do, but you don’t see anything.”

Giles blinked once, twice, then removed his glasses. “Um… oh, sorry… Um, sorry. P-perhaps I’d better be going. Let’s um… talk about this later.”

*****

Giles walked around the shackled Spike, wafting a bundle of incense and reading from a spellbook.

“Enemy, enemy, be now, quiet.”

“You know… not too keen about this spell stuff,” Spike snarked. “Tends to be a bit unpredictable.”

“Yes, well, you might have thought about that sooner. Um… Let your deceitful tongue be…” he continued, having some difficulty following the words. “Be… uh… Let no… untruths… be spoken.”

Frustrated with his worsening vision, he set the book down, took out a handkerchief and cleaned his glasses.

“Hey, what’s this all about?” the vampire asked, concerned.

“Hm? Oh, nothing. I just got ash in my eye.”

“Well, I won’t have you doin’ mojo on me if you can’t read properly. You might turn me into a stink beetle or what all.”

“’T’would be a generous ending for you, Spike,” Giles said inelegantly.

Inexplicably, Spike freed himself of his chains. In a flash, he jumped up from the floor, pushed Giles out of the way and ran out the door.

*****

Sitting in their dorm room, Buffy resigned herself to yet another night of Willow grumping and crying over her boy-woes.

Willow was sitting on her bed, absentmindedly playing with Amy the rat.

“I mean, I’m going through something. I just don’t see why he was getting down on me,” she whined, ratcheting up Buffy’s upset stomach yet another notch.

“Giles just worries,” Buffy said, trying to soothe Willow’s ruffled feathers. “Spells can be dangerous. It doesn’t mean he thinks you’re a bad witch.”

“I am a bad witch,” Willow said with tetchy fatalism.

“No,” Buffy insisted automatically. “You’re a good witch.”

Willow shook her head. “I’m not kidding anyone. If I had any real power, I could have made Oz stay with me.”

“Will, you wouldn’t have wanted him to have stayed –”

“And I didn’t have the guts to do the spell on Veruca, and my ‘I Will It So’ spell went nowhere. The only real witch here is fuzzy little Amy.”

As best friend, Buffy felt obligated to bolster her flagging spirits. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”

“She’s got access to powers I can’t even invoke,” Willow plowed on, seemingly ignoring Buffy’s words. “I mean, first – she’s a perfectly normal girl – then poof! She’s a rat. I could never do something like that.”

When the phone rang, Buffy grabbed it like a lifeline. “Hello? Uh, I’ll be right there.” Hanging up, she turned to Willow, “Spike escaped.”

“A-and you’re going?” Willow’s whining climbed several decibels. “Now?”

“Sorry,” Buffy said, perhaps a little too quickly. “Duty thing.”

“Well, I mean, what’s the rush?” Willow asked. “Spike can’t hurt anyone, right? And I figured since I’m kinda grieve-y, we could, uh… you know, have a girls’ night. We could eat sundaes and watch Steel Magnolias and you can tell me how at least I don’t have diabetes.”

Really? Could that girl be any more self-centered? Unable to stand any more without being sick right there and then, Buffy said, “Will, I can’t hang out with you until I get Spike back to Giles – you know that. Okay, I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

But Willow’s snit continued, even as Buffy made for the door. “I don’t see the big. He’s probably just standing out there. You’ll find him in two seconds!”

*****

No more than two seconds later, Buffy found herself staring at Spike. He was looking about the college campus, wildly confused.

“I thought that was gonna take longer,” she mused.

“Me, too,” Spike agreed. “Musta got… turned around.” He continued frantically searching about for something.

“Spike, stop.” Buffy felt her stomach try to climb out through her mouth. “You’re making me nauseous.”

“Hang… hang on. This – this is it. Wait, no… yes!”

“What are you talking about?” Buffy asked, clutching at her mid-section.

“The lab. Commando lab. The door was right here where I escaped.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, unconvinced. Try as she might, she could see nothing out of the ordinary – just undisturbed grass.

Spike ignored her, dropping to his knees and tearing at the ground with his bare hands. “Open up! I’m gonna kill you!” he shouted as he tossed handfuls of grass in the air.

“Spike! There’s nothing there,” Buffy insisted.

“Let me in! Fix me…” Spike begged, resignation tingeing his words.

Buffy reached down to drag him to his feet. But, as she tried to straighten up, she finally reached her limit. Doubling over, she puked.

“What’s wrong with you, Slayer?”

“I-I don’t know. It’s been building for a couple of days now… Why am I telling you this?” she asked, coming to her senses. “Okay, drop the act,” she spat angrily, grabbing Spike by the arm, only to be pushed away.

“Get off!”

“Okay, that’s it – I’m gonna gag you,” she said, turning green again as another wave of nausea made itself known, but she still managed to dodge the punch that Spike threw. She retaliated, and the crunch of cartilage rang loud in the night.

Prodding his injured nose, Spike noted, “That almost hurt, Slayer. You’re off your game.” He eyed her suspiciously. “Never seen you sick before.”

“I’m not sick!” Buffy insisted. “Enough of this nonsense. You have to go back to Giles’, and I’m gonna get you there if I have to tie us together and walk you there with one foot in your ass all the way.”

The look on Spike’s face was priceless, causing Buffy to mutter, “Pig,” under her breath.

*****

Giles was in the bathroom, putting in eye drops in an attempt to restore some of his lost vision, when he heard his front door slam open. 

“Hey!” Spike protested. Watch it!”

“One more word out of you and I swear…”

“Swear what? You’re not gonna do anything to me. You don’t have the stones.”

“Oh, I got the stones. I got a whole bunch of… stones.”

“Yeah? You’re all talk,” Spike sneered, as if he held all the power between them.

“GILES!” Buffy yelled. “I accidentally killed Spike. That’s okay, right?”

Still fiddling with his eyedropper, Giles called back, “Uh… uh… um… just a minute.”

*****

Xander was about to lose his ever-lovin’ mind. Willow was pacing back and forth, still complaining about Buffy.

“I mean, I’m going through something,” the redhead repeated for the umpteenth time. “You’d think every once in a while, Buffy would make best friends a priority.”

He rolled his eyes before replying, “You know, Will, it’s not like she could just let Spike go.”

*****

Buffy had just about had it. She slammed Spike down onto a chair.

“You know,” he sneered, as nasty as he’d ever been. “I get this spell reversed; they’ll be finding your body for weeks.”

“Oh, make a move – please! I’m dying for a good slay,” she replied with just as much snark. If looks could kill, they’d both be dead(er) by now.

*****

“Spike’s more important than me.” Willow continued with her self-centered whining. “I get it.”

“Buffy’s gotta find out what’s up with those commandos,” he insisted, sure his words were falling on deaf ears. “Right now, she needs Spike.

“Well, fine,” she sniffed. “Why doesn’t she just go and marry him?”


	3. Chapter 3

“If the two of you could remain civil long enough to –”

Giles’ words fell on deaf ears. No longer arguing, Buffy was now perched on a chair. The vampire was on bended knee, holding her hand.

“It’s just so sudden,” Buffy gushed. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say yes, and make me the happiest man on earth.”

“Oh, Spike! Of course, it’s yes!” Buffy exclaimed, her eyes aglow with joy.

What the hell…? Giles walked forward and removed his glasses, unable to process the scene before him: the pair snogging for all they were worth.

When the lip-lock broke, Buffy finally seemed to notice her Watcher. “Giles! You’ll never believe what’s happened!” she squeaked, holding up her now chunky-silver-skull-ringed finger.

*****

“It’s just not fair!”

Great Godfrey Cambridge, would his torment ever end? “Willow, I know it’s hard to see it right now, but everything you’re feeling is because of you and Oz. Not because of Buffy and me, or anybody. But eventually you’ll meet somebody else, and it’ll be better.”

“Yeah,” Willow said sarcastically, “’cause most relationships are great and trouble-free. I don’t think so. I think we’re all doomed to badness.”

“We’re not doomed.”

“Oh yeah? Let’s-let’s look at your bio. Insect Lady, Mummy Girl… Anya! You’re a demon magnet.”

Xander couldn’t keep the hurt out of his voice. “I was just trying to help.”

*****

A frustrated Giles tried to call Willow but had to resort to leaving a message on her answering machine. “Willow, it’s-it’s me. Something’s happened. I need your help. I can’t see very well. Everything’s blurred.” 

A hazy glimpse of Buffy bringing Spike a mug of blood had him grabbing the scotch. Continuing, he added, “I’m certain it’s a spell of some kind, because… well… it seems something else is going wrong.”

“Here you go – 98.6,” Buffy said as she handed her vampire his meal and proceeded to sit on his lap.

“Horribly wrong,” Giles concluded before hanging up.

Buffy gazed into Spike’s eyes. “There’s so much to decide. Ceremony, guests, reception…”

“Well, first thing I’d say: we’re not having a church wedding.”

“How about a daytime ceremony? In the park?”

“Fabulous. Enjoy your honeymoon with the big pile of dust.”

Buffy continued on blithely. “Under the trees. Indirect sunlight only.”

“Warm breeze tosses the leaves aside and, again, you’re registering as Mr.-and-Mrs.-Big-Pile-of-Dust.”

The happy couple didn’t even register Giles’ returning to the living room and settling clumsily onto the couch with a glass of scotch in hand.

“Stop it!” Buffy cried, exasperated. “This is our wedding and you’re treating it like a big joke!”

“Ooh, pouty! Look at that lip…” Spike crooned softly. “Gonna get it… gonna get it.”

Amidst Buffy’s giggles, they fell to snogging yet again, Until Buffy broke off and said playfully, “Oh… stop!”

“Yes, please stop,” Giles all but begged, taking a deep swig of his drink.

“Giles, did you see my ring?” Buffy asked, extending her hand.

“Thankfully not very well,” he murmured, leaning back and rubbing at his eyes.

Getting up from Spike’s lap, Buffy settled at Giles’ feet. “I’m not crazy, and I know that you probably don’t approve, and my father’s not that far away. I mean, he could… but this day is about family – my real family – and I would like you to be the one to give me away.”

He was touched! “Oh, Buffy! That’s… that’s so… Oh for god’s sake!” he said, coming to his senses. “This is nonsense. Something is making you act this way. Don’t you realize what you’re doing?”

“Living the dream,” Buffy sighed happily, looking back at Spike.

“He’s gonna have to take a bit of time to get used to it, pet.”

“They all will,” Buffy agreed. Turning to Giles, she added, “But you guys weren’t crazy about Angel at first, either.”

“You weren’t gonna say that name,” Spike muttered angrily.

“Sorry. Why don’t we talk about where we’re going to register?”

“Well, where would Angel like to register?” Spike sneered. “And, uh, can we have the photographer Angel would’ve wanted? And the flowers Angel would have liked?”

“Hey!” Buffy snapped, standing up. “You think I don’t live with the shadow of Drusilla over my head? That I’m not wondering if you’re going to be thinking of her on our honeymoon when you’re making sweet love to me?” Walking back over to Spike she resituated herself in his lap, and the snogging commenced again.

Giles couldn’t take anymore. He reached for his glass but only succeeded in knocking it to the floor.

“Giles, are you okay?” Buffy asked, concerned.

“I rather think not. I seem to be rather… rather… blind. Completely, in fact.”

“What?” Buffy walked back over to him. “How could this have happened?”

“A spell, I believe.” He could feel her waving her hand in front of his face.

“Well, we’ll fix it,” she said resolutely. “Don’t worry.”

“What you want is a general reversal spell,” Spike added. “Gonna need supplies.”

Giles was gobsmacked, to say the least. “Are you… helping me?”

“Well, it’s almost like you’re my father-in-law, innit?”

Buffy couldn’t hide her happiness. “See? This is how it’s gonna be. Spike’ll even take care of you while I’m at the magic shop.” Walking into Spike’s embrace, she pronounced, “From now on, we’re a family,” and proceeded, once more, to snog her intended.

Giles panicked. Standing, he wobbled his way to the kitchen. “It’s alright. I have more scotch.”

*****

After exiting the magic store, Buffy stopped short. She couldn’t believe it. In the bridal shop window was the most absolutely perfect wedding gown ever! Spike was just gonna die all over again when he saw her in it.

“Hey, Buffy. What’s up?”

Startled, Buffy turned around and was face-to-face with Riley. Without a word, she turned back to her dress.

“Riley, look. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Um, yeah. It’s nice. A little dressy, maybe, for school, but…”

Turning to face him once more, she said softly, “Riley…”

“Buffy?” he questioned, clearly bewildered.

“I really like you. I hope you know that you mean a lot to me,” she began, placatingly, “and if things were different-”

“Different than what?”

Feeling badly, she took his hand. “I want you to promise me that we can always be friends, and I’d really like you to be there on The Day.”

“The day when…”

Really? “The wedding!”

“The wedding? What wedding?”

“My wedding!” Buffy said, frustration rising. “I’m getting married – can you believe it?”

Riley shook his head. “I don’t think ‘no’ is a strong enough word.”

“I know! It’s crazy! I mean, we fought all the time for all these years, and then… sometimes you just look at someone and you know. You know?”

Riley shook his head, emphatically. “No.”

“I think maybe we fought because we couldn’t admit how we really felt about each other.”

“Can we start again?” Riley asked, his face a mask of total confusion.

“You’ll really like him,” Buffy twittered on. “Well, nobody really likes him.”

“I just need to clear a few things up…”

“I don’t even really like him.”

“Buffy!”

“But I love him. I do.”

“Who?”

“What?”

“What’s his name?”

“Who?” Really now, this was getting ridiculous.

“The groom!”

Ah! “Spike.”

“That’s a name?”

“Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad!” Riley insisted.

“No, you are mad!” Buffy insisted right back.

“No, I am! Er… I really… Wow. Who is this guy? Does he go here?”

“Spike?” Buffy laughed. “Oh, no. He’s totally old.”

“Old.”

“Well, not as old as my last boyfriend was.”

Still befuddled, Riley finally broke. “Okay. It’s late… and I’m, I’m very tired now. So, I’m just gonna go far away and be… away.”

“But –”

“No, stay,” Riley said with finality. And he walked off, still looking utterly confused.

Adopting one of her better pouts, Buffy called after him, “You’re ruining my happy day!” Her stomach began to cramp again, and she dry heaved.

*****

Xander called up the stairs. “That’s okay, Mom – we don’t need any more snacks.” 

Anya shrugged her shoulders. “I liked those fruit roll-ups.”

“Shush. I thought she’d never clear out. Besides, just think of my lips as the fruit roll-ups of love.” After a momentary pause… “Okay, that was gross,” Xander admitted. “I’m a little distracted. Willow was really upset. I shouldn’t have let her go away mad.”

Anya shut him up in his favorite way: hard, passionate kisses.

“Regaining focus,” he murmured.

“We just got rid of your mom,” Anya pointed out. “Let’s not bring Willow into this. It’s time for just the two of us.”

They fell onto his mattress, kissing and, well, other stuff. Then, suddenly, a demon burst through the side door. Leaping up, Xander ran at the demon; it tossed him aside.

Anya went after it with a baseball bat, but it snatched the bat from her grasp.

Xander leapt back up, grabbed his clothesline and tried to strangle the thing.

“No, no,” Anya cried. “It’s a Serparvo demon! Drowning is the only way to kill it!”

With a concerted effort, they managed to drag the demon over to the sink and dunk its head under the water. But, as soon as the Serparvo died, another demon burst through the window.

“What the hell is going on?” Xander demanded, grabbing Anya as they ran out of the basement.

*****

Buffy sing-songed the Wedding March as she paraded the cake topper (with a little blonde couple) up Spike’s arm.

With a towel over his eyes, Giles asked wearily, “So the plan is to cure my total, incapacitating blindness… tomorrow, is it?”

“They were all out of taggias root at the magic shop,” Buffy explained. “They’ll have more tomorrow. I’m completely on top of it,” she promised.

Looking at the topper, she said, “Aren’t they the perfect little us?”

“I don’t like him,” Spike countered. “He’s insipid. Clearly human.”

“Oooh!” She had an idea. “Red paint! We could smear a little on his mouth – blood of the innocent.”

“That’s my girl.” He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her down for yet another soul-searing kiss.

“Stop that right now!” Giles insisted. “I can hear the smacking!”

Reluctantly, Buffy pulled away. setting the figurine down, she picked up a notebook from the table. “Honey, we need to talk about the invitations,” she wheedled. “Now, do you wanna be William the Bloody, or just Spike? ’Cause, either way, it’s gonna look majorly weird.”

“Whereas the name Buffy gives it that touch of classic elegance.”

“What’s wrong with Buffy?”

“Ha… such a good question,” Giles snorted.

Ignoring the Watcher, Spike replied, “Well, it’s a terrible name.”

“My mother gave me that name,” Buffy argued.

“Your mother, yeah. She’s a genius.”

“Don’t you start in on my mother.”

Their argument was cut short when Anya and Xander burst in. Pushing a bookshelf in front of the door, Xander yelped, “Board up the windows, and barricade the doors.”

“What’s going on?” Giles asked.

“Demons,” Anya explained. “They keep coming and coming.”

“I think we lost them, but I couldn’t see.” Xander startled at the sight of the unbound vampire. “Spike!” he squealed (in a manly fashion, he would later insist). “He’s all untied!” There was a brief pause before he continued, “Which you probably noticed.”

“Xander, calm down, okay? If you lost them, that’ll give us some time to figure this out.” Turning to Spike, Buffy said, “Maybe the demons have something to do with Giles being blind.”

“Giles is blind?” Anya repeated.

Walking over to Giles, Xander proceeded to wiggle his fingers in front of the man’s face.

“Please stop whatever you’re doing. You smell like fruit roll-ups.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “This is the crack team that foils my every plan? I am deeply shamed.”

Latching onto Spike’s arm, Buffy conceded, “Spike’s right. We really should get organized.”

Staring at them, Anya asked, “Why are you holding hands?”

Buffy met Spike’s adoring eye and smiled lovingly.

“They have to hear it sooner or later,” Spike encouraged.

Unable to hold back her excitement, Buffy trilled, “Spike and I are getting married!”

“How? What? How?” Xander couldn’t contain his befuddlement.

“Three excellent questions,” Giles muttered.

Spike was gazing at her. “What are you lookin’ at?”

“The man I love,” she replied and proceeded to kiss him silly.

“Can I be blind, too?” Xander asked. “Wait… married. I know something. What is it…?” He was thinking aloud. “Everything’s so familiar. Work, brain – work! Oh! Oh, oh! Willow!”

In between kisses, Buffy managed to ask, “Mmm… what about Will? Honey, get off,” she said, pulling away.

“Something about Willow and her grief-y poor-me mood swings,” Xander replied. “So, so tired of it.”

“You mean I don’t have to be nice to her anymore?” Anya asked, hopefully.

“Well, we’re all tired of it,” Buffy agreed, “but what does it have to do with what’s going on?”

Xander pumped his fist. “She told me I’m a demon magnet, a-and you two should get married.”

“And that I didn’t see anything,” Giles said slowly.

“She did a spell!” Buffy realized.

“Yes,” Giles agreed. “To have her will done. Whatever she says is coming true.”

“And you both were affected. I probably only escaped because I’m the Slayer. Some kind of natural immunity.” 

“Yeah, right,” Xander snorted. “You’re marrying Spike because you’re so right for each other.”

“Xander…”

“That’s it,” Spike declared. “You’re off the usher list.”

“People,” Giles’ tone called them all to order. “Willow is out there, and she probably doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

“We gotta find her,” Xander announced.

“Before someone gets really hurt,” Buffy insisted.

Giles nodded and tripped over his own feet, falling over his couch and landing on the other side.

*****

Willow walked into her dorm room, and was accosted by a terrifying demon who placed his hands on either side of her head. Massive gusts of wind and crackling electricity swirled about her, and they both vanished.


	4. Chapter 4

Buffy, Spike, Xander and Anya strolled down the hallway of Stevenson Hall.

Xander was the one to break the silence.

“Why does he have to come?” he asked, jabbing his hand at Spike.

“Xander, Spike is going to be my husband. I want him included.”

“I agree with Xander, here,” Spike said unexpectedly. “Seems like a lot of work for people who aren’t us.”

Slightly exasperated, Buffy turned towards her vampire. “Spike, these are my friends. Besides,” she added, “it’s kinda my job.”

“For now,” he said, patting her hand.

“What? You want me to stop working?” she asked, as she opened the door to her room. Everyone followed her in, save for Spike, who remained outside, still running his mouth.

“Let’s see… do I want you to give up killing all my friends? Yeah, I’ve given it some thought.”

Ignoring him for the moment, Buffy noticed something on their carpet. “This is burned!”

“D’Hoffryn!” Anya snarled. “The bastard. He opened a portal here.”

“Who?”

Holding up one of Buffy’s skirts – (an orange number with a fuzzy trim) – Spike said, “Wear this to the rehearsal dinner and the whole thing’s off.”

“Shut up, honey.”

Anya snorted inelegantly. “D’Hoffryn. He made me a demon 1120 years ago.”

“Why would he attack Willow?” Buffy asked.

“I don’t believe he did.”

*****

Surrounded by numerous demons of various species, Willow tried to tamp down her panic.

“You have much anger and pain,” the demon who had transported her here stated. “Your magic is strong, but your pain – it’s like a scream that pierces dimensional walls. We heard your call.”

For a moment, Willow was actually pleased that someone had understood the enormity of what she was feeling. Then, reality came crashing back.

“I-I’m sorry. I’ll try for quiet rage. Bye!” She turned to leave but found herself face-to-face with yet more demons.

“Come back, young one,” the demon insisted in a voice she couldn’t refuse. “Our intention is not to quash your potential – quite the contrary.”

Willow turned back, scared and confused.

*****

Walking through the cemetery, Anya continued to fill the gang in on D’Hoffryn. “I’d been dumped, I was miserable, doing a few vengeance spells – boils on the penis – nothing fancy.”

“Please, skip ahead,” Xander said, looking positively green.

“D’Hoffryn got wind of me; he offered to elevate me.”

“Meaning?” Buffy asked.

“He made me a demon.”

“Oh god,” Buffy gasped. “Willow! But you can summon the guy from this crypt, right? You can make him stop… Oh my god, wouldn’t this be a perfect place for pictures?” Buffy asked, running her hands over the crypt’s ivy-covered sides.

“I’m not posing for chuff all,” Spike grumped.

“Hey… Demon!” Xander pointed out one coming their way.

Buffy walked up to said demon, attitude at the fore. “Okay, listen – now we’re gonna do this without ruining the foliage.”

A fight ensued; Buffy tossing him aside just as another demon appeared. She quickly realized they were just gonna keep coming, thanks to Xander’s presence, and called out, “Let’s go!”

They raced into the ivy-covered crypt, barricading the door as best they could. Anya ran to the far side, knelt down and drew a circle around herself in the dirt.

“Blessed be, the name of D’Hoffryn,” she chanted. “Let this space be now a gateway to the world of Arashma’haar, where demons are spawned.”

*****

“The pain and suffering you brought upon those you love is inspiring,” D’Hoffryn praised. “You are ready to join us here in Arashma’haar.”

“Pain? What pain?” Willow was confused.

*****

Spike bellowed at the sight of a demon breaking through the window and strangling his beloved. “Buffy!”

“Not doing well here,” Xander muttered.

“We come in supplication,” Anya continued her chanting. “We bend as the reed… in the flow of the, uh. No, wait… we-we come in the flow of the, ugh!” Taking a deep breath, she finished with, “Blessed be, the name of D’Hoffryn.”

Buffy managed to jerk herself free from her demon and ran to Spike’s side. He and Xander had propped a stone sepulcher against the doorway to keep the other demons out.

“They’re strong,” Spike warned, “and I can’t fight. If they get in, I don’t know if I can protect you.”

“You think you need to protect me?”

“Oh, not with the girl-power bit!” Spike growled his displeasure.

Overpowering their defenses, the demons busted their way into the crypt. Spike and Xander managed nothing more than getting their collective asses kicked as Buffy headed into the fray. Anya picked on the demon attacking her boyfriend, and was promptly tossed aside for her troubles.

*****

D’Hoffryn slashed a dimensional rift open, wide enough to allow Willow to see her friends being set upon by demons.

“Oh god,” she cried. “But I didn’t mean to!”

“But you did,” D’Hoffryn insisted. “This is the result of your power. You will make a fine vengeance demon.”

“No, please! You have to help them!” Willow was besides herself with fear for her friends.

“It is not my concern. You are my interest in this matter.”

“Really, no offense intended… I mean, you’ve been super nice and everything, but… I don’t want to be a demon. I just wanna go back and help my friends.”

“That is your answer?” D’Hoffryn queried.

“It-it is.”

With great menace, D’Hoffryn said, “I’m sorry to hear that.” But before Willow could flinch, he added casually, “Oh well. Here is my talisman.” He held it up for Willow to take. “You change your mind, give us a chant.” And with a wave of his hand, Willow felt herself vanish from Arashma’haar.

She appeared at the crypt just in time to see yet another demon burst onto the scene. It knocked Spike flat on his back.

Buffy pummeled the demons in her way and rushed over to Spike’s side.

“Oh, Spike… Are you okay?”

“Slayer…” Any further words were smothered by kisses.

The display snapped Willow out of her torpor and she began to chant, “Let the healing power begin. Let my will be safe again. As these words of peace are spoken, let this harmful spell be broken.”

With a crash of thunder and several flashes of lightning, the remaining demons vanished.

“Oh, ugh!” Buffy cried, pulling away from Spike in disgust.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Spike retorted at the same time.

They both leapt to their feet, putting as much distance between themselves as possible.

“Spike lips! Lips of Spike!” Buffy gulped, clearly horrified. Then proceeded to toss her cookies right on the crypt’s floor.

“What the fuck, Slayer,” Spike yelled. “Is this gonna be your new way of slaying demons? ’Cause I gotta tell you, the stench is somewhat disgusting.”

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Buffy turned and met Willow’s eye. 

The redhead smiled sheepishly and waved. “Hi, guys!”

*****

Willow piled chocolate chip cookies onto the plate Anya was holding.

“How long are you going to keep making these?” Anya asked in annoyance.

“Oh, until I don’t feel so horribly guilty. I figure about a million chips from now. Also, I have to detail Giles’ car.” Taking the plate, she walked over to Xander and Giles.

Holding up a clock for Giles to read, Xander asked, “Time?”

“A-ha! Five past two. Clear as day,” Giles said with satisfaction.

“Look, cookies,” Willow interrupted. “A very not-evil thing I did. Oatmeal?”

Removing his glasses, Giles took a cookie and scowled. “Yes, very funny – they’re chocolate chip. I can see them. I still need my glasses, though. You could have been more specific and given me 20/20.”

Willow smiled and walked over to Buffy and Spike (who was once more tied to a chair).

“Eat a cookie, ease my pain?”

Buffy grabbed one, taking a large bite. “Mmm – better?”

“Well, baking lifts about 30% of my guilt, but only 7% of my inner turmoil. Guess that’ll just take a while.”

“It’ll happen,” Buffy soothed.

“Don’t I get a cookie?” Spike asked, petulantly.

“No.” Buffy was apparently not in a generous mood.

“Well, I gotta have something,” Spike pushed. “I still have Buffy-taste in my mouth.”

“You’re a pig, Spike.”

“Yeah… well at least I’m not the one who wanted, ‘Wind Beneath my Wings’ for the first dance.”

Giles, Anya and Xander turned to stare at Buffy with incredulity.

“That was the spell,” Buffy insisted, blushing, as she walked to the kitchen.

Willow scowled at Spike and shoved a cookie into his mouth. She then followed Buffy into the kitchen.

“Did I mention about the sorry part?”

“We may be into a forgetting spell later,” Buffy said. Astonishment crossed her face as she continued, “I loved him. We were betrothed.” Her face crumpled into a moue of unhappiness.

“Well, at-at least you were getting along.”

“But we weren’t. I mean, it wasn’t even nice. And the bad-boy thing… over it! Okay, I totally get it. I’d be really happy to be in a nice relationship with a decent, reliable… Oh my god! Riley thinks I’m engaged!”

“What?”

Buffy stammered, “He-he-he saw me! What the hell am I going to say?!”

*****

As she walked down Sunnydale’s main street, side-by-side with Riley, Buffy laughed. “You thought I was serious?”

“Well, no… um… you weren’t serious?”

“Oh, god, please. Like I’d marry a guy named Spike?”

“Maybe,” Riley mused. “We haven’t known each other that long.”

“No, it’s just… I saw that fear in your eyes when you caught me looking at wedding dresses, and I had to give you a hard time.”

“I did not have fear in my eyes,” Riley insisted with a manly huff.

“Yes, you did. You were looking at me like I was a cartoon ball and chain.”

“So, you decided to tell me you’re getting married.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So, you’re insane.”

“Uh-huh!”

“But you’re still single?” Riley asked, clearly trying to lock in all the facts.

“Yes.”

“Okay, then,” he said. “Just another little piece of the Buffy puzzle.”

“You really have a lot to learn about women, Riley,” Buffy laughed nervously.

Reaching up, Riley took hold of the back of her head. Every nerve told her a kiss was imminent. “You’re gonna teach me,” he teased, turning and walking away.

Buffy stood alone, staring after him, and doubled over once more to decorate the ground with puke.

“There has got to be something wrong with me,” she muttered under her smelly breath.


	5. Chapter 5

Buffy sat up in bed, stretched, and attempted to take a deep breath. There, the subtle but telltale signs of impending nausea. But still, it had to be addressed.

Willow was already up and in the process of getting dressed. “Morning, Buff,” she chirped, entirely too perky for Buffy’s taste.

However, it was now or never.

“Morning, Will,” she said, eying the redhead with caution. “Can you sit for a minute?”

“Sure, no worries. Oh! It took me a while to process, but I meant to ask if you’re feeling okay?”

“Yeah, well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I didn’t do anything else, I swear,” Willow said defensively. “No spells or anything.”

Buffy almost laughed at Willow’s vehemence, but managed to restrain herself. “No, no – I wasn’t going to accuse you of any witchy shenanigans. But there is something wrong with me.”

“Nothing that involves growing a tail or scales in unmentionable places?”

This time Buffy did laugh. “No, doofus, but… I’ve been having puke-attacks from out of the blue.”

The concern in her friend’s eyes focused as she scanned her from head to toe. “When did it start? Do you think it was something you ate?”

“Actually, it started at that silly little picnic Riley surprised me with a couple of days ago.”

“Oh! He was so excited about the prospect of dating you… even asking me about what things you liked. I told him you really liked cheese,” Willow confided, as if it was some state secret.

“Ordinarily I do love cheese, and the Havarti promised to yield all sorts of creamy goodness in my mouth, but no sooner had it touched my tongue, than my stomach tried to climb out of my throat.”

“Poor, Buffy – deprived of cheesy goodness,” Willow clucked sympathetically.

“And then again, later, at the Bronze,” Buffy added. “Oh, also when Spike escaped from Giles’ place.” She gently rubbed her tummy, thinking hard for any other upheavals. “And just after you broke the ‘My Will Be Done’ spell – though I could attribute that to having kissed Spike, so…”

“No other symptoms?”

“Just a bit of light-headedness and a queasy tummy. And of course, the upchucking.”

“No headaches, no fevers, no chills?” At Buffy’s upraised eyebrow, she said, “What? I’m just being thorough.”

“I get it,” Buffy said. “And it’s not like it’s all the time. Just every now and then. Oh, and one more ‘then’ – remember I told you about explaining to Riley about the whole ‘engagement’ to Spike thingie? After he left, I almost lost it again.”

“Well, something is obviously not right… Uh, I just had a thought,” Willow said, looking cagey. “Is it possible that you could be – you know – pregnant?”

“Pregnant?” Buffy exploded with laughter. Of all the things she could have suggested, pregnancy ranked lowest on the plausibility list. “I haven’t been with anyone since Parker, and I’ve had my period since then.”

Willow gave her the stink eye, clearly not loving having her theory shot down. “But the symptoms fit.”

“Oh come on, Wills. The only eligible male I’ve even seen since then is Angel, and that was only for a few minutes. Neither hanky nor panky ensued. Not to mention the not-possibleness of him fathering children in the first place.”

“Well, maybe it’s a hellmouthy thing?” Willow tried, not letting her theory go. “It could be a mystical pregnancy.”

“It could be a boring ol’ virus,” Buffy countered.

“Well, you could always go see a doctor… thought they wouldn’t have a clue as to any supernatural goings on.” Willow shrugged her shoulders and added, “But I think it’s worth at least ruling out hellmouth-y pregnancy shenanigans.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, but had to agree – off to the drugstore it was.

*****

First morning’s urine, the box said. Does that mean before or after I go to bed at the butt-crack of dawn? Buffy shrugged, and figured that six in the morning was as close to first thing as she was going to get. She sat down on the toilet, opened the box and unwrapped one of the two tests.

Place in urine stream, then wait for results. Sounded simple enough, even for her poor, tired brain. One pee later, and Buffy placed the test on the wrapper, checking the time. At 6:13 – one way or the other she’d have an answer.

Buffy took the test back to her dorm room and paced back and forth. Pregnant? Impossible, she was sure. For all the sex she’d had in her lifetime, she could still be called “Buffy the Chaste” with a straight face. Then again, Willow was right – this was the Hellmouth. A mystical pregnancy would be just the sort of thing it would cook up to screw with her life.

Shaking her head, Buffy checked the time again. Only 6:12. One more minute. She had to tamp down the urge to grab the test and watch it second-by-second to see the results. But that would surely lead to madness, she reasoned, so she stayed her feet for the remaining time.

When the clock finally showed 6:13, Buffy took a deep breath, retrieved the test and scanned the directions for reading the results. One line – not pregnant; two lines – pregnant.

Forcing her eyes towards the test, Buffy gasped. No second line! Nada! Nothing!!! She wasn’t pregnant! What a blessed relief. She reread the directions on the box, just to make sure. Pitching the box into her bag, she whispered to the ether, “Thank god. Bullet dodged.”

But her odd sense of foreboding begged to differ.

*****

Now, if anyone accused him of brooding, he’d beat them six ways from Sunday… But nevertheless, here he was, sitting on a tombstone, a half-filled bottle of JD in one hand. And he couldn’t get the bloody Slayer out of his mind; hadn’t been able to think of anyone else since the witchlet’s botched-spell-induced travesty of an engagement.

He, William the Bloody, the Slayer of Slayers (the sobriquet he’d earned in life-or-death combat with her Slayer predecessors) had spent hours making moon-eyes and snogging the vapid little chit.

It made no sense. Even as that milksop William Pratt, he’d had a very specific type. As a human, he’d fallen hard for Cecily Addams; a graceful, fair-skinned brunette. Then came his black goddess, Drusilla, who had personified his tastes: tall and slender, complexion as white as milk, straight dark hair a shimmering curtain that fell about his face when they were…

No need to remind himself of someone else he couldn’t have.

But Slutty the Vampire Layer – she didn’t tickle his fancy. She was a little bit of a thing. Her nose was funny and her mouth was too big for her face. Her skin was sun-kissed bronze, for hell’s sake. Not to mention those bloody shampoo commercial bottle-blonde tresses of hers.

Spike sighed. He was doomed, because despite being purportedly totally uninterested in the bint, he could apparently recall all of her attributes at will.

Her nubile little body – just past the baby-fat stage. Two plump little handfuls for breasts, that more often than not, didn’t see the insides of a brassiere. A curvy little heart-shaped arse…

Who the hell was he bloody kidding?

For a handful of hours, he’d had everything he ever wanted: someone he loved, and someone who loved him back. Yeah, they’d still fought over everything, right down to the stupidity of their names, but that was part of the attraction. A couple wasn’t supposed to mirror each other. (Not that vampires had any use for mirrors).

A good relationship, in his opinion, was more of a yin-yang situation: each person filled in the needs of the other – like puzzle pieces.

Once that thought came into his head, he frowned. Whatever Drusilla had asked of him, Spike had gone out of his way to achieve. What he needed was always secondary, and almost never reciprocated.

But he loved her. Had loved her since he’d first risen.

Yet Buffy had been the one to love him back. Well, until the spell had broken, and she was overwhelmed with disgust at the mere thought of his lips sullying hers. Meanwhile, it was all he could do to show his own horror at their intimacy.

Spike upended the bottle of Jack and downed the remainder in a single swallow, throwing the bottle against another tombstone with all his might. There was something nicely satisfying about the glass breaking and falling to the ground in a million little pieces.

He really was a first-class ponce, he admitted to himself. Gone and done the one thing that crossed the lines of good and evil – an unforgivable betrayal of everything he was.

He’d had fallen hard for Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

“Hells bells, but this takes the bloody cake,” he muttered, shaking his head and suffering the consequences when the cemetery began to spin. “Of all the idiotic things I’ve done in my unlife, falling for the beacon of light itself, takes the fucking cake.”

With a shrug of his shoulders, he gave in to the inevitable. “Always been led by your heart, you plonker,” he said, pounding his fist against his chest. “Cost you your mortal life the first time, and the bitch wasn’t worth my pain.”

“Now Drusilla – my ripe, wicked plum – she was something else. At least she wanted me. For over a hundred years she led me around by my nose and I did anything she asked of me. More than, even; changed into her bloody lap dog and accepted the barest scraps she’d feed me when her interest wandered.

“But it was love,” he insisted to himself. “At least love as Dru understood it, the poor, delusional woman that she was.”

“Now, it’s the Slayer’s turn. Little Buffy, scarcely more than a child. At least she’s reached her second decade,” he mused, pacing back and forth. “Not like good old Angelus, who loved ’em young ’cause they hurt so easily.”

“This is not gonna end well,” Spike said, throwing his hands in the air in surrender. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna throw in the towel, though… Just gotta be smart about it,” he said, just as he tripped over something and landed face-first on the ground. Too drunk to bother getting up he promptly passed out.


	6. Chapter 6

Two weeks. It had been two weeks of puking. Two weeks of Willow researching about Hellmouth energy and mystical cancer. Two weeks of wondering if today was the day she should either consult Giles or make an appointment at the student health clinic. Two long weeks of queasiness and lingering questions.

Which is why, when she found herself home alone at Revello Drive doing laundry (and with time to spare between wash cycles)… she reached into her bag, pulled out the second test and headed for the bathroom.

She didn’t know how she knew, but know she did; that little plastic stick on the counter was going to change things forever.

And she was immediately sorry her mom was at work; she could’ve used the support right now. But it was fitting really, when the big moments come, the Slayer is always alone. She should have learned that lesson by now.

“Enough!” Buffy huffed to the ceiling. Girding her proverbial loins, she grabbed the test and looked at it – and found exactly what she feared. She was, indeed, pregnant.

She sat down heavily on the toilet and dropped her head into her hands. Mother. When she heard the word, the only image in her mind was Joyce Summers. She, Buffy Summers had a mother. Now it seemed as if she was going to be a mother.

That is, if she decided she wanted to be a mother. She did have options available and an abortion would certainly solve the issue. The thing was, with so much death surrounding her as the Slayer, the desire to kindle potential new human life was oddly instant and almost overwhelming. If it was human. Which, being here on the Hellmouth, was definitely questionable.

And who in the hell was the father? Unless someone had come in through her window while she slept and raped her – without her waking up, which was implausible – she honestly didn’t have a single, solitary clue.

For a fleeting second, she wished (not aloud, of course) that she could have contracted mystical cancer.

*****

Enough! For fuck’s sake, he was a bloody vampire, not some trembling, barely-out-of-school ponce. He was furious with himself (not to mention still a little hung-over from his two-week drunken binge), but it was time to sac-up and face things head on.

Yes, the Slayer’s hearty disgust at the spell’s ending had stung, but he was used to rejection (both before being turned and after). He’d unlive. Hiding in his crypt was no way to deal.

And he wasn’t going to confine himself to his (Well, Rupert’s) lair for fear she’d be offended at the very sight of him.

*****

Buffy startled at the sound of her back door slamming open and was immediately assaulted by the smell of burning fabric.

Spike stood in the middle of her kitchen, swatting out the smoldering areas on his person, while stomping out the small flames on the blanket on her floor.

“You do remember you’re a vampire?” she asked incredulously.

“I go where I want and I do as I please,” said vampire snarked back.

“What in the hell are you doing here, Spike?”

“Got something to say,” he replied, his expression somewhat closed for a change – and unreadable.

“So you decided to play peek-a-boo with Mr. Sunshine to see me?”

“Look, Slayer,” Spike began, “it’s been two weeks since we were forced into that unforgiveable shit-show of an engagement by your best mate.”

“It wasn’t…” Buffy started to say before his actual words sank into her brain. “That’s right. No fault of our own,” she echoed his sentiment.

“So why the bloody hell have you been hiding like a coward?”

“Me?” she cried. “You haven’t made yourself exactly available, either.”

“Truth be told,” he admitted, “was afraid you’d be gunning for me, stake in hand – your sullied virtue fluttering behind you.”

“Virtue fluttering? What are you, ancient?” she barked, before realizing what she’d just said. “Wait, you are. Old, that is. Nobody’s virtue flutters these days, Spike.”

“So you haven’t been avoidin’ me?”

“No more than you’ve been avoiding me.”

And that was as close as she got to admitting Spike had been a no-fly zone. One look at the vampire told her he was probably admitting his avoidance, as well.

“So?”

“So!”

“Well, that settles nothing,” she muttered under her breath as she sat down on a kitchen chair.

“Could just settle everything,” Spike replied, joining her on the mattress. “Could go on as before. Seemed to work nicely.”

“You mean just conveniently ‘forget’ the spell stuff?” Buffy asked, feeling hopeful for the first time since this morning’s discovery.

Spike turned his attention to her, and just before he said what was on his mind, his nostrils flared. With a cock of his head, he asked, “You visit an old mate recently, Slayer?”

“W-what?”

“I’m askin’ if you’ve seen a mutual acquaintance of ours lately.”

“You really have to stop with the vampire smelly thing – it’s disgusting.”

“No more disgusting than the pong coming off you… what with smelling like Peaches and all.”

“Peaches? I smell like fruit?”

“No, you silly chit,” Spike replied. “Peaches – Angelus… Angel, if you insist on separating the two.”

Buffy was dumbfounded… and confused. How could he know? “I-I saw Angel a couple of weeks ago, after I stopped in to see my father,” she said. “But that was… I mean… I’ve showered, a lot since then, and all we did was hug once or twice. I can’t smell like him,” she reasoned.

“Nevertheless, I’m getting’ the distinct odor of the Great Forehead,” he insisted. “Although… it’s a little off, I’ll admit.”

“What are you going on about?” Buffy was getting a little nervous. Spike was actually drawing in lungfuls of air… and now he leaned in closer.

“Don’t worry, Slayer. ’M not gonna bite,” he murmured into her ear. “Not without an engraved invitation.”

“When pigs fly,” came her terse reply.

“Oink, oink,” he laughed, before resuming his smell-a-thon. “You smell different,” he concluded as he sat back further away from her.

Oh crap – he knows!

“Slayer! What’s wrong?” Spike demanded, loud enough that it probably wasn’t the first time he’d asked. She must’ve zoned out.

“I-I’m fine,” she stammered.

“No, you’re not,” he insisted. “You’re green, like you’re gonna toss your cookies yet again,” he said in alarm, jumping quickly across the room.

At Spike’s outward appraisal of her inner state of unwellness, she jumped up and made a bee-line for the toilet. And lost what little she had in her stomach from last night.

“Well, well, well,” Spike drawled from outside the bathroom door, his eyes trailing to the pregnancy test sitting on the sink. “Guess that explains all the heavin’ you’ve been doing lately.”

Buffy said nothing, just tossed the offending plastic tester into the trashcan and withdrew into herself as she settled on the floor next to the toilet.

“Question is,” Spike continued, “just who is the sprog’s da?”

“Stop.”

“So, who managed to get you up the duff?”

“Stop, please!”

Her pained voice and the emerging tears seemed to stop Spike’s line of inquiry.

He bent down and helped Buffy to her feet. “It’s not a hard question, pet,” he said softly, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“But that’s just it!” Buffy wailed. The dam had broken and she couldn’t hold back the waterworks. “I don’t know who, or how. Or even when!” she cried. “There was Parker, but he used a condom, and that’s the last man I was with. The timing would be all wrong!”

She glanced over at him and realized she’d actually done it: she’d finally rendered Spike speechless.

And then he did the strangest thing. He reached out – somewhat awkwardly – and patted her shoulder. No words of comfort, or understanding… No trite platitudes. Just support.

Buffy didn’t know what to make of it. She didn’t have to worry too long – verbal Spike made his reappearance a moment later.

“What are you going to do ’bout it?”

“I need to tell Mom. Have you ever seen a woman do the ‘how could you’ and ‘yay, grandchildren’ dances at the same time?”

“Think I’d pay good money to see it, pet.” Spike said quietly. And a small tender smile graced his face – a look Buffy had definitely never seen on him before.

“The only other person who knows what’s going on with me is Willow. And quite honestly? I don’t think I can deal with her level of perky ‘it’ll-be-all-rightness’ just now.”

“You sure the witchlet has nothin’ to do with your condition?”

“It’s not like I haven’t given that a thought – or two,” Buffy admitted, “but why on earth would Willow want me pregnant?”

“Maybe she was tryin’ to help with your homework or summat,” Spike offered, snark fully back in place. “We know from personal experience how spot-on her spells can be.”

Buffy couldn’t help but remember snuggling and smooching with Spike on Giles’ armchair, and shuddered. “Yeah, her track record isn’t all that great, but I really don’t think she’s involved here.”

Spike simply shrugged, non-verbal again.

Gathering up her courage, Buffy asked, “Would you mind staying until my mom comes home?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“A-am I that hard to be around?” she asked, lip wibbling and tears reforming in her eyes. “If this is what being pregnant does to me, I wouldn’t want to be around me either.”

“A couple of tears don’t frighten me,” Spike snorted, toeing the floor like a little kid. “Spent plenty of time ’round Dru in one snit or another.”

“So you’ll stay, then?” Buffy asked, hopefully.

Spike nodded, and leaned back against the counter. “For as long as you need, pet.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Honey, I’m home!” Joyce Summers announced as she closed the door behind her and headed for the kitchen.

“We’re in here, Mom,” Buffy called out from the living room.

We? Must be Xander or Willow. Or both. “Are we having company for dinner?” she asked. “I can always put up more spaghetti.”

“Can you come in here first, please? I have something I need to talk to you about.”

Uh oh… sounds serious. Her daughter almost never confided in her any more. That closeness was reserved for Willow-chats over ice cream.

After pulling out the large double-handled Dutch oven, the spaghetti and a jar of sauce, Joyce headed into the living room to join Buffy and company.

“Tell me what’s so important that starting dinner…” Joyce’s words dried up at the sight of Spike sitting next to Buffy on the couch.

“Don’t worry about Spike, Mom,” Buffy said, as Joyce’s eyes widened in surprise. “We were just talking – Slayer business.”

Joyce’s lie-detector began beeping internally. In the middle of the day? With all the bright, deadly sunshine? She swallowed down the impulse to interrogate her child.

“Is something wrong, sweetie? You look a little pale. Are you feverish?” A quick hand to Buffy’s forehead put paid to that thought.

“I don’t have a fever, Mom… and nothing infectious either. But I’ve been nauseous for a couple of weeks now, and…”

“Oh, my god!” Joyce exclaimed; the revelation hit her just looking at Buffy’s guilty face. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

“Mum’s radar,” Spike said, nodding. “Right to the point.”

“Are you…? Did you and Spike…” Joyce spluttered as her fears were confirmed. “No, wait… vampires can’t make babies, right? That’s partly why Angel left – because he couldn’t give you a future with children.”

Spike’s sub-vocal growl was felt more than heard, like a flush of goose-flesh.

“No, no!” Buffy stood up and moved between her mother and Spike. “Spike had nothing to do with this – he was just there when I first started puking last night, and wanted to make sure I was okay.”

“Out of the goodness of my unbeating heart,” Spike added smugly.

She ignored her daughter-bullshit-radar. “Who’s the father?” Joyce demanded. “And why isn’t he here, instead of Spike?”

“I-I…”

“She doesn’t know,” Spike picked up when Buffy couldn’t continue.

“How could you not know?” Joyce cried out in frustration. “I didn’t raise you to –”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Mom,” Buffy yelled back. “The last time I had sex was almost three months ago, and I’ve had my period since then – at least once, for sure.”

“You folks live on the Hellmouth, Joyce,” Spike said softly. “All sorts of mystical happenings occur.”

Joyce collapsed onto the couch, dropping her head into her hands. Her baby was pregnant! And the father was unknown! And there might be some kind of mystical cause.

She looked up and found Spike had moved closer to her daughter – his hand around her shoulders in a show of support – against her own mother.

“Oh, Buffy!” she cried out in anguish. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Here you are, trying to tell me… and I accuse you of sleeping around. I love you, my darling girl. We’ll figure this out together, I promise.”

Buffy immediately fell into Joyce’s arms, crying as if her heart would break. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I didn’t do anything. They guy I slept with used a condom. I made sure, honest. Along with, well, you-know-who, I’ve only had sex twice. This isn’t fair!”

“No, baby, it’s not,” Joyce agreed. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do? I mean, there are some options available to you. You can… terminate. Or you can have the baby and give it up for adoption. Or…”

“Or she can keep the sprog,” Spike interrupted. “Not an easy thing for a Slayer to do, but it has been done before. And she has more help than most Slayers.”

“He means you, Mom,” Buffy said softly. “And Giles and the gang. They have to be told, mainly because I think there’s something hellmouthy going on in the father-portion of this clusterf… mess.”

Joyce gave Spike a considering look before asking, “Have you ever heard of such things happening? Mystical pregnancies, I mean?”

“I’ve heard of all kinds of things happening,” Spike said, “some of which I wouldn’t want to repeat in mixed company.”

Joyce’s shoulders slumped. She had been hoping for a definitive ‘no’, but that obviously wasn’t in the cards for her baby.

“I-I’m gonna give Giles a call,” Buffy said, looking at the phone as if it were her enemy. “If you have trouble talking about my sex life, you can imagine him!”

“Old Rupes’ll probably spontaneously combust,” Spike chortled.

“Says the extremely combustible vampire!” came Buffy’s rejoinder.

“Buffy… Spike… please! Can we not bicker like children?” Joyce begged. “This whole situation is far more important than who can out-snark whom.”

“Sorry, Mom.”

“Sorry, Joyce.”

“Better. Now, are you sure Mr. Giles should be your next call?” Joyce questioned. “What about an obstetrician? Or is there a chance the baby isn’t… isn’t…?”

“Human?” Spike added, helpfully.

Joyce winced.

Buffy said hurriedly, “I could just call Giles over.”

Joyce nodded. “I’ll make some tea.”

“The British standard for when things are amiss,” Spike offered his opinion again. “I guess I’ll be going now that you have your mum with you and…”

Buffy gave a panicky yelp, “No!”

Spike’s scarred brow rose to his hairline as he cocked his head in her direction.”

Obviously embarrassed, Buffy added, “I mean, would you please stay, too? Maybe between you and Giles, something will click and we’ll figure out what’s happened?”

“You sure, Slayer? It’s a mite personal and you’ve never wanted me up in your business before.”

“For some reason, I feel calm around you. And that’s something I can really use right now. Unless you have other things to do…?”

“Nothing I couldn’t put off for another time,” he admitted.

“Then it’s all settled,” Joyce stated. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

*****

“I’m here,” Giles announced himself as he entered the house. “Would someone mind telling me what’s so vitally important that you couldn’t tell me by phone?”

“We’re in here, Giles,” Buffy called out.

The ‘we’ that he found in the living room was not the ‘we’ he expected. Joyce, Buffy and Spike, of all creatures.

And then Buffy stood up.

Looking for all the world like a young woman in the final stages of pregnancy.

Giles felt his legs wobble and feared his knees would buckle.

“Spike!” Buffy shrieked in dismay.

In a flash, Giles felt Spike at his side, holding him upright.

“Wha-what the bloody hell is going on here,” he demanded, shaking off the vampire’s help and stumbling to a chair.

“I’m so sorry, Giles,” Buffy soothed, pulling a rounded pillow out from under the blouse. “I just couldn’t think of any other way to break the news to you without breaking into tears, myself.”

Holding his hand to his chest, Giles tried to get his pulse under control. “Now that you’ve managed to nearly give me a bloody stroke, would you mind giving an actual explanation?” he asked, annoyance and fear bucking for precedence in his voice.

Buffy blushed. “Well, I’m sure by now you’ve heard through the grapevine that I’ve been having a pukefest for nearly a month – usually at night.”

“Yes, yes… Willow informed me, but she said you felt fine, otherwise.”

“Well, she’s right. Most of the time I feel fine, and then suddenly: Whoops! There goes erupting Buffy.”

“And just who is the young man responsible for this?” Giles asked. “You’ve not mentioned anyone of note lately.”

“That’s just it, Rupes,” Spike interjected. “The chit has no clue about the father. Or how and when the sprog was conceived.”

“Oh, come now, Buffy. Surely you’ve…”

“Mr. Giles!” Joyce’s indignant tone cut through the room. “I’ll trust you to be more respectful when talking to my daughter.”

“Sorry, Joyce,” Giles was mortified at his unguarded comment. He hadn’t meant anything disparaging.

“It’s okay, Giles,” Buffy said, glaring at Spike. “Spike’s unnecessarily blunt but he’s right. I shouldn’t be pregnant. I haven’t had the sex necessary to get pregnant. So, why am I pregnant? And with what?”

“Oh, god!” Joyce exclaimed. “With what? My daughter could be pregnant with a what?”

“I-I’m sure Buffy will be fine,” Giles stammered. “Inter-species pregnancies are extremely rare. I think we can safely assume that Buffy is carrying a perfectly normal human child, unless something tells us otherwise.”

“You know what they say when you assume, old man,” Spike snorted with derision. “I’m not sayin’ the Slayer’s carrying a Hell god’s spawn, but it’s better to cover all your bases than get caught unawares.”

“If I want your opinion, Spike, I’ll-I’ll never want your opinion.” Giles removed his glasses, buffing the lenses until they shone. The nerve of that vampire – telling me how to care for my Slayer.

Spike simply shrugged. “I’d say it was your funeral, Rupes, but that would be a lie. Your girl’s life could be on the line and you’d rather play Snippy Miss with me.”

“You know, I’m right here,” Buffy said, sounding quite annoyed. “And since I am the one who’s pregnant, I should have a say in my care.” Facing the room, she continued, “And I agree with Spike, because he’s making sense for a change.”

“Oi!”

“Don’t make me sorry I’m taking your side in this,” Buffy chided. “But I’d rather check out everything than have something unexpected bite me on the ass. And don’t you dare say another word, Spike!”

“Well, I say my daughter needs to see an obstetrician to at least confirm that she’s pregnant,” Joyce said. “A home pregnancy test still leaves the possibility that the results are false.”

“I took two tests,” Buffy said meekly. “The first was two weeks ago, and it was negative. I took the second one this morning, in case the first was taken too early. Sure enough, this one came out all Buffy-with-a-baby.”

“You’ve kept this to yourself for two weeks?” Giles’ ire was roused. “How can I be of any help to you at all, Buffy, if you hide important information from me?”

“But there was no information to give you,” Buffy insisted. “You don’t tell me every time you get indigestion, do you?”

Spike laughed.

Joyce looked at her daughter with warmth in her eyes.

“I-It’s not the same,” Giles argued, “and you know it.”

“Okay, that’s enough from all of you,” Joyce intervened. “I’m calling for an appointment for Buffy with one of my gynecologist’s partners. That would be the first step here. The second would be finding an obstetrician who is in the know about the… the demon world, I suppose. I’m afraid that’s a little bit out of my depth.”

“I can always ask around,” Spike offered. “If you’d like, Joyce. If that’s okay with you, Slayer?”

Buffy nodded her approval. “Thanks, Spike,” she said softly. “And Giles, if you could ask your contacts as well, I’d appreciate it. The more the merrier, I always say.”

“I’ll do my best, my dear. There are a few people who come to mind.”

Joyce straightened her dress as she got to her feet. “Well, that didn’t take as long as I feared. Is anyone ready for dinner?”

Buffy’s rumbling stomach answered for them all.


	8. Chapter 8

It took a week, but finally her mom was able to get an appointment with Dr. Lecher, a partner of her own gynecologist. And, to Buffy’s relief, her mom had taken time off from the gallery to go with her. She’d tried to imagine asking Giles to accompany her, but the idea was too far-fetched. 

Buffy felt bad about avoiding any extended alone time with Willow this past week. She feigned extra training sessions with Giles, and extra-long patrols. But like she’d told Spike, she didn’t think she could handle little Miss Perky – then or now. Especially since there was no real, actual news yet.

However, if the doctor’s blood test came back positive, then it would be time to take a stand. And once she’d seen the obstetrician that Spike and Giles had found – together, believe it or not – she’d have to make up her mind as to a course of action. ’Cause, really, if she was pregnant with something other than a human child, her options would narrow.

The first thing she had to do is get past this initial doctor’s visit. To find out if she was well and truly pregnant in the normal womanly way.

After confirming her pregnancy status, she’d have to make some of the hardest decisions in her life – whether or not she was going to keep the baby and raise it, or have an abortion. The idea of carrying the child to term and then giving it up just didn’t sit well with her. She’d made hard decisions before; this would be one of her most difficult.

Of course, once that was done, she’d have to let her friends in… on both her condition and her decision. Then she’d have to bear the weight of their reactions. Because they would certainly have reactions – their opinions would be made, loud and clear.

She would just have to stand strong and have faith in her own decisions, no matter what they heaped upon her shoulders: doom and gloom, or undying support.

Lastly, she supposed she would have to tell Spike. For some reason, it felt like the right thing to do. Not that he wouldn’t eventually sniff things out on his own. And, again, eeew. That sniffy thing vampires did always gave her the wiggins.

No, she amended her mental list; the final thing she needed to do was determine just who (or what) the father was.

A quick glance at the clock on her nightstand told Buffy that she could still shower and make it to her appointment on time. She scurried into the bathroom and turned on the water, full blast.

Her stomach let her know in no uncertain terms that she was hungry. However, no breakfast for her today, which really didn’t feel like a hardship. With her nerves, she didn’t think she could keep anything down, anyway.

Ignoring her hunger, it was a quickie shower (for her) – 30 minutes. Afterwards, Buffy threw on her most comfortable outfit, a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt. Considering Dr. Lecher would make her disrobe, her clothing choice was irrelevant. And none of her friends would see her, anyway.

Sitting at her vanity, Buffy finished drying her hair and pulled it back into a messy pony. A little light makeup (slovenly clothes, yes; unmade face, no), some lip gloss and she was ready.

“Time to go, sweetie,” her mother’s voice carried up the stairs.

“Be right down, Mom,” she said, grabbing her backpack and heading down to join her mother.

*****

Buffy sat in the waiting room, silently chewing at her cuticles. The idea of being here wasn’t frightening in and of itself; she’d had regular gynecological exams before. It was the reason for the visit that had her freaking out.

She was barely twenty years old. Even if she’d been in a committed relationship and had a totally ‘normal’ life, the idea of being pregnant would have scared her.

She laid her hand across her abdomen, seeking out the little life that was probably growing inside her. “Who are you?” she whispered. Somehow, she couldn’t bear to ask the other question nagging at her. What are you?

“Did you say something?” Joyce asked. “Are you feeling okay? Do you need the restroom?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Buffy said, hoping to allay her mom’s anxieties. Her mom was being strong for her and, while Buffy appreciated the effort, she could see how unsettled she was. “I don’t usually get nauseous during the day.”

Her mom smiled softly, patting Buffy gently on the shoulder. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” she said tenderly. “No matter what we find out, I’ll be here to support you and whatever decision you make.”

“Mom?” Buffy hesitated for a moment before asking “When you were pregnant with me…”

“When I was pregnant with you…?” her mother repeated, looking at her expectantly.

“You and Daddy were happy, right? I was wanted?”

“Oh, Buffy. Your Dad and I were over the moon,” Joyce enthused.

“Were you ever…?”

“Scared?”

Buffy nodded.

“After the thrill of finding out I was carrying my first child, I have to admit that I was terrified!” Joyce nodded slowly, the memories seeming to swamp her. “My first baby. A little life that would be totally dependent on me and your father. If I had been alone, I don’t think I would have made it. Your father was a good man, back then. He was totally supportive and caring. He couldn’t wait to greet you.”

“But that didn’t last forever, did it?” Buffy sighed, the old hurt of her father’s abandonment lashing through her and opening old wounds.

“No, my love,” Joyce replied. “But until your teenaged years, you had the best father any little girl could have.” Smoothing the hair away from Buffy’s face, she continued. “You’re such a brave young woman, my sweet Buffy. Especially with the, erm, rather unusual circumstances of this potential pregnancy. I can’t tell you how proud I am.”

Buffy sniffled, hugging her mother gently. “I’m so glad you’re here with me, Mom.”

“I wouldn’t be any place else, my darling girl.”

“Ms. Summers? Ms. Buffy Summers?” the receptionist called out. “Dr. Lecher is ready for you now.”

Buffy stood, gave her mother a quick squeeze and made to follow the woman.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Joyce asked.

“I-I’m good, Mom. Thanks.” Buffy took a deep breath, and headed to the examination room.

*****

When she rejoined her mother an hour later, the shine of unshed tears made Joyce stand up and engulf Buffy in her arms.

“They can’t possibly have the results from the bloodwork already?” she asked, wiping the tears that finally found their way down Buffy’s cheeks.

“It’s fast these days, and Dr. Lecher said the exam pretty much put paid to the question. It looks like I’m about four to six weeks pregnant.”

“Oh, baby… I don’t know whether to console you, or jump for joy. It’s so confusing.”

“Welcome to my world, Mom.”

“I guess now we have to wait for Rupert to set up his doctor’s appointment for you?”

“Looks like it’s time for a full Scooby meeting,” Buffy said, resigned. “Would you mind having it in our house tonight? I would really feel more comfy at home.”

“That fine, sweetheart. Whatever is good for you, is fine by me.”

*****

“Buffy!” Willow cried out as she embraced her friend. “I’ve been so worried. What was with all the silence and not-spending time with you last week? Especially after…”

“I’m fine, Willow. Mostly.” Buffy put her hand up to forestall any babble. “Xander and Giles are already here, so let’s go inside and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Leading Willow into the living room, Buffy took a deep breath and began, “You guys know that things haven’t been quite right with me for close to a month, right? What with the impromptu barfing all over Sunnydale?”

“And we did talk about the probable causes,” Willow said, “from the mystical cancer to pregnancy. But then you left your friends to worry and wonder about you for a whole week without explanations.”

Willow’s hangdog expression stoked Buffy’s ire. “I needed some time alone, Wills,” she said, a little more cattily than she’d wanted to let on. “Not everything is solvable by friendship.”

“Uncalled for, Buffster,” came Xander’s response. “Willow was worried, and she wouldn’t tell me why, so I worried too.”

“Fine, you’re all so hellbent on telling me how to behave?” Buffy fumed. “I went to the doctor this morning, and it turns out that I’m pregnant.”

That shut ’em up, she thought, viciously.

“And on top of that, I have no clue who the father is.”

“Buffy,” Joyce’s censure was soft, but felt nevertheless. “I’m sure Willow and Xander mean well.”

“How’d you like your every move, your every thought. Your Every. Single. Choice – questioned?” 

At her mother’s eloquently raised eyebrow, Buffy added, “I mean by someone who isn’t your daughter?”

Noting that Giles was sitting quietly, allowing her to vent, Buffy turned back to her friends. “And here’s some more news for you guys to pick over: I haven’t even had sex in the time frame it takes to make this pregnancy possible.”

Willow didn’t respond to what she already knew, but Xander looked like he was going to have an apoplectic fit.

“But how? Why? Who?”

“If I freaking knew, I’d tell you,” Buffy spat, her indignation not quite spent. “And considering we live on an active Hellmouth, I also have to worry about what the father is.”

“We’re doing our best to answer all your questions, my dear,” Giles finally entered the ‘discussion’. “With Spike’s help –”

“What the hell is the Bleached Menace doing shoving his nose into Buffy’s mysterious sex buddies,” came Xander’s furious interruption. “Unless this is all his fault somehow.”

“Are you calling me a ho?” Buffy asked, incredulously.

“And why would he be helping Buffy?” Willow asked, clearly puzzled, ignoring her best friend’s latest question.

Joyce came to Spike’s defense. “Does it really matter why Spike is helping? If Buffy benefits from his wisdom, that’s all that really matters.”

Xander snorted in derision.

Willow just looked shocked.

“Spike can be helpful,” Buffy said, “when he wants to be. And if he’s pulling some kind of a scam, I can always take it out on his ass.”

“Buffy!”

“Well, it’s true, Mom. But Spike is also, oddly enough, a vamp of his word. He said he’d help find out what’s wrong with me, and I’m sure he will.”

“How much is Dead Boy Jr. charging you for his services?” Xander just couldn’t seem to keep his nasty tongue quiet.

“How much are you charging me for your help?” Buffy retorted.

“But he always wants something,” Xander insisted.

“And you don’t? Tell me you’re still not trying to get into my ‘good graces’. Well, at least before those graces were certifiably pregnant.”

Xander looked horrified, Buffy suspected primarily at being caught out still lusting after her.

“Buffy!” Willow cried out. “That’s just mean.”

“Well, I’m sorry, not sorry,” Buffy said mulishly. “I’ve really had enough of you guys shoving your opinions at me. Even more tired of you guys insisting I live up to your standards.”

“But… but…!”

“No buts, Willow. It’s time you realized I’m just as old as you are, and I have a right to live my life in the way I deem fit – not you. Not Xander. Not even Giles.”

“Now see here!”

“Sorry, Giles. No disrespect meant, but the only person whose opinion matters in the end is me.” She paused, then added, “And Mom, though the final say belongs to me.”

Still unwilling to give up the argument entirely, Xander sniped, “And I suppose you’re gonna ask Spike how he feels about all of this?”

With a straight face, she answered, “As a matter of fact, I’m headed over to his crypt after you guys leave.”

Ah, blessed silence.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank the Powers for the quiet, Buffy thought as she headed slowly but surely towards Restfield Cemetery. She could hardly believe she’d fought back against her closest friends – and it’d felt wonderful!

Buffy hadn’t realized how much their attitudes had grated on her psyche over the past few years. Sure, they meant well. Of course they did; they were good people. But still, that didn’t give them the right to make decisions for her. And it had been well past time for her to stand up and make sure they knew it.

Did she feel guilty about it? Yeah, just the slightest bit. And Buffy was sure there would be no small amount of censure in their looks the next time they got together. It’s just that, for the moment, her burden was lighter for her blowup.

A left turn at the Mandelbrott double headstone, then a right at the Barker crypt, and Buffy found herself right outside one of the larger crypts in Restfield. For some reason, Spike was scoping the place out. She hesitated, girding her loins and taking a deep breath, before she approached him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Slayer?” he asked.

“I wanted to tell you about Dr. Lecher’s exam,” she said, unable to look him in the face. “I mean, not about the details, but about the results,” she added. “I just told the gang, and I thought it only fair to tell you.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “what with my not being included in your merry band of Scoobies.”

Buffy snorted. “You wouldn’t have wanted to have been there tonight.” Then again… “Maybe you would have. Tonight was ‘let’s pile our opinions on Buffy’s head’ night.”

“And this is different how, you reckon?”

“I told them off,” she said, smugly.

Spike’s scarred eyebrow lifted towards his hairline. “That so?”

“It was so that!” Buffy laughed, though she hadn’t found it funny at the time. “Willow’s mouth gaped open like a fish.”

“And the boy?”

“Oh, he made his opinion known. He basically called me a ho for sleeping around and then, when I mentioned your help, he accused me of sleeping with you!”

“You know, he’s always had a bit of a thing for you. Doesn’t surprise me at all the bloke’s jealous as all get out.”

“Don’t think I didn’t call him on that one,” Buffy boasted.

Spike laughed. “Isn’t that somethin’,” he said, softly.

“I may be blonde, but I’m not blind.”

“Your little mates do know how baby vampires are made, don’t they?”

Buffy nodded. “It’s one of the first things we covered after they found out that vampires were real.”

“And they know that we can’t make babies the traditional way, what with our little swimmers bein’ dead and all,” he pushed further.

“Your point?”

“Then why the bloody hell would that pillock think I got you up the duff?”

“If I interpret your strange Britishisms correctly – and you’re asking why he would think you got me pregnant – I mostly think he was just mouthing off. In the face of the unexplainable, Xander isn’t always at his coolest.”

“That git has no ‘cool’ whatsoever,” Spike grumbled.

“I’m afraid I have to agree. Xander is sweet, but as for having it all together… well… he tends to be a bit lacking.”

“So, Slayer… can we get to the point of our little talk? What did the doctor have to say?”

“He concluded that I am definitely pregnant – about 4-6 weeks,” she revealed.

“And how do you feel about that?” he asked gently.

“Well, it’s better to know for sure than worry about Willow’s mystical cancer theory,” she said, “but, until I see this doctor you and Giles found, I’m withholding any decisions.”

“Probably a smart move, pet,” he agreed.

*****

Buffy opened her eyes and found herself standing in an empty hallway. Not home, not college…an empty intersection in Sunnydale High.

The school she and her friends had blown to smithereens.

She cocked her head at a faint sound: a little girl humming or chanting.

“Do you hear that?” Buffy said aloud.

Walking forward, she came across a young blonde – who couldn’t have been more than ten years old – wearing a long red dress and holding an ornately carved wooden box.

“Can't even shout. Can't even cry. The Gentlemen are coming by.

Looking in windows. Knocking on doors.

They need to take seven and they might take yours.

Can't call to mom. Can't say a word.

You're gonna die screaming but you won't be heard.”

Buffy looked around, feeling a presence at her back, and almost screamed at the horrid vision she saw grinning at her.

She woke up with a start, wiping the drool from her lips, to find herself sitting next to Willow in a full classroom. Oh, god, she hoped her snoozefest hadn’t been noticed by anyone, especially Professor Walsh, also known as the Bitch Monster from Hell.

From the front of the room, the professor said, “So, I’ll see you all on Monday for a final review session.”

“Man, that was an exciting class, huh?” Willow nudged Buffy with her elbow.

“Oh, yeah… well.”

“And the last twenty minutes was a revelation – just laid out everything we need to know for the final. I’d hate to have missed that.”

“Just tell me I didn’t snore,” Buffy muttered, still embarrassed at having passed out.

“Very discreet, minimal drool,” Willow reassured.

“Oh, yay!”

“So, were you dreaming?”

“Yeah, it was kind of intense.”

As they left the classroom, Riley stepped out from behind a column. “Intense, really? ’Cause you seemed so peaceful,” he said as he fell into step with them.

“Of-of course it was only for a moment,” Buffy stammered, mortified that he’d noticed her sleeping.

“Right,” he said indulgently. Hey, you guys headed over toward Judd…”

“Er… student center,” Buffy corrected.

“Oh, great. So this dream…”

“You know, you guys go. I’m gonna go do the thing,” Willow said, awkwardly. “So I’ll see you after Wicca group. Bye!”

“Okay. Bye.” Buffy murmured.

“Bye,” Riley acknowledged. Turning to Buffy he said, “So, tell me about your dream. As a psych major I’m qualified to go ‘hmmm.’”

Buffy blushed hotly. “I really don’t remember it.”

“Well, did I appear at all in this dream?” he asked, all boyish charm.

“Not really,” she said. “Why would you?”

Clearly taken aback, he asked, “Are you sure?”

“Not even a cameo,” Buffy replied.

Shaking off her obvious rebuff, Riley asked, “So what have you got going on for tonight?”

“Oh, patrolling.”

“Patrolling?” Riley’s eyebrows rose.

“Uh… Petroleum,” Buffy corrected.

“Petroleum?”

“Uh huh!”

“Tonight you have crude oil?”

“And homework. What about you,” Buffy tried to push Riley off his line of thought.

“Oh, you know… grading papers.”

“Ah, that’ll be fun,” she said with a false tinkle of laughter.

“Not petroleum fun, but it passes the time.”

Damn, like a dog with a bone he won’t give up! “So, I uh…”

“Yeah?” he asked, hopefully. “I guess I won’t see you until…”

“Yeah,” Buffy said, feeling an unusual twinge of daytime nausea as Riley leaned in to kiss her. “What papers?” she asked, trying to hold her breakfast down.

“Papers?” Riley asked, confused.

“Um, grading… what papers? We only have the final.”

“You know, Buffy, a fella can get the wrong idea if, every time he tries to get close to you, you look like you’re gonna heave.”

“Sorry, Riley,” Buffy apologized, feeling bad/not bad.

“So…?”

“Class.”

Bewildered, Riley said, “I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah,” she said to the TA’s retreating back.

*****

Giles walked around the chair, stretching the phone cord taut. ‘Can’t even cry. The Gentlemen are coming by’. It sounds vaguely familiar. You’re sure it’s… nothing you heard when you were a child?”

He could actually hear her eyes rolling back in her head in her reply.

“I’ve already told you as much,” Buffy insisted.

“Oh, alright. Nothing else?”

“Slayer dream?”

“Well, i-it could definitely be one of your prophetic dreams – or it could just be the eternal mystery that is your brain.”

“Hey!”

“Look, I’ll check it out and, um, I’ll let you know if I find something, alright? Bye bye.”

Turning to Spike, Giles asked, “Have you heard of a group called the Gentlemen?”

“Group of what?” Spike asked, as he threw himself down onto the couch and crunched down on a cracker.

“The Gentlemen,” Giles pushed, rolling his own eyes.

“Dunno.”

“You certain?”

“No,” the vampire replied. “We’re out of Weetabix.”

“We are out of Weetabix because you ate it all – again!”

“Get some more.”

“I thought vampires were supposed to eat blood.”

“Yep.” Spike continued to lie on the couch like a lump. “Well, sometimes I like to crumble up the Weetabix in the blood – gives it a little texture.” He opened a jar of peanut butter.

“Since the picture you just painted means I will never touch food of any kind again, you’ll just have to pick it up yourself.”

“Sissy.”

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose – hard. Another interminable day with his unwelcome, aggravating houseguest.

He looked up sharply as Anya walked through the door, unannounced.

“Well, I think we should talk about it now,” she snapped at Xander who was following close behind.

“Thanks for knocking,” Giles said sarcastically.

The exasperation dripped off Xander’s words. “If you don’t know how I feel about-”

“I don’t! This isn’t a relationship,” Anya argued heatedly. Apparently, this conversation had been going on for some time now. “You don’t need me. All you care about is lots of orgasms.”

Spike’s interest was piqued enough at Anya’s words that he sat up, a cracker hanging half out of his mouth.

Giles removed his glasses, rooting around in his pocket for his ubiquitous hankie.

Blushing beet red, Xander’s tone became hushed but urgent. “Okay… remember how we talked about private conversations and how they’re less private when they’re in front of my friends?”

“Oh, we’re not your friends,” Spike chimed in, continuing to munch on his treat. “Go on.”

“Please don’t,” Giles implored.

Anya stamped her foot. “This is important.”

“But why is it here?” Giles begged to understand.

“Mom said you wanted me to swing by?”

“Oh, oh yes! Well, I meant uh after sunset,” Giles said, remembering his earlier conversation with Xander’s mother. “Uh, I need you to take Spike for a few days.”

“What?” Xander responded.

“What?” came Spike’s rejoinder.

Not to be left out, Anya’s “What?” followed.

“I’m not stayin’ with him,” Spike insisted.

Giles tried for calm, but his patience was nearly at an end. “I have a friend who’s coming to town and I’d like us to be alone.”

“Oh, you mean an orgasm friend!” Anya said perkily.

Giles groaned inwardly. “Yes, that’s exactly the most appalling thing you could have said.”

Anya looked at him with an ‘I just spoke the truth so why are you so upset’ expression.

“He’s not roaming around,” Xander said vehemently. “He stays with me, he’s gonna get tied up again.”

“What about our romantic evening?” Anya whined.

“I’m not having these two shag while I’m tied to a chair three feet away,” Spike spat.

Giles sat, hitting his head with a closed fist in exasperation.

“That’s not exactly one of my fantasies either,” Xander agreed with Spike.

“So, you’re blowing off our evening because –”

Spike muttered something unintelligible.

“I don’t want him to come either,” was Xander’s final word on the situation.

*****

And yet here we are, Spike thought, bitterly. Tied to a chair as monkey-boy climbs into bed in his delicates.

“Don’t see why I have to be tied up,” he whinged as Xander turned out the light.

“It’s just while I’m sleeping,” the git replied.

“Like I’d bite you, anyway,” Spike retorted.

“Oh, you would!”

“Not bloody likely!”

“I happen to be very biteable, pal. I’m moist and delicious.”

“Alright, yeah, fine, you’re a nummy treat.” Spike rolled his eyes, irritated. He’d been hanging with the Slayer way too long for comfort. Now he was copying her mannerisms. This just wouldn’t do.

“And don’t you forget it.”

After a few moments of silence, Spike (pitching his voice soprano in imitation of Anya) sing-songed, “Xander… don’t you care about me?”

“Shut up!”

“We never talk.”

Xander turned and held up a warning finger. “Shut up,” he said, emphatically.

“Xaaaaander…”

“SHUT UP!”


End file.
